


Time Has Other Plans

by Lion_owl



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, F/M, M/M, Polyamory, Season/Series 02, Spans multiple episodes, diverges at the end of 2x04 'lancelot and guinevere', lancelot stays au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lion_owl/pseuds/Lion_owl
Summary: Feeling scared and alone in Hengist’s castle, Gwen and Lancelot find hope and consolation in their surprise reappearance in each other’s lives. But when Lancelot stays for Merlin, they find what they quickly dismissed as love soon poking its head up again. Lucky that Lancelot has place in his heart for two. But what of Arthur? Enter: Mithian





	Time Has Other Plans

i

 

It had been stupid, Gwen realised in hindsight; to think there was enough between them for anything lasting to happen. Even as she sat beside Lancelot at the campfire, she found her gaze drifting again and again back to Arthur; and Lancelot’s to Merlin.

She loved Lancelot – or so she thought. But it had all hit her very suddenly, hadn’t it? Sure, she’d had a few butterflies when they met, back in Camelot, but that had been over a year ago and she hadn’t thought of him that way since.

And then she had been trapped in that stinking dungeon, alone, knowing Uther would never pay the ransom, and preparing to face her death, when he had shown up, a knight in shining armour but not quite any of those things, and given her a glimmer of hope.

Everything had happened very quickly from there, but at no point had her heart raced the way it had when she caught sight of Arthur making his way through the crowd.

She cared deeply for Lancelot – of course she did – but nothing could ever come out of what was between them. Perhaps she could be meant for Arthur; after all, he had come to rescue her, too.

“Truth is, I only came because Morgana begged me,” Arthur said, and that illusion, too, was shattered.

“I think I’ll get some rest,” Gwen said, glaring at Arthur as she stood up, and everyone else followed suit. She lay down, watched him lie down some distance away, watched as Lancelot walked away up the slope to keep guard, watched as Merlin followed him a moment later.

Lancelot would never have said that, she thinks. Lancelot would never try to claim that he, personally, was willing to leave someone to die just because he found out she might have feelings for someone other than himself.

Gwen had no doubt that Morgana would have begged Arthur to come and rescue her, but she didn’t believe for a second that was the only reason. It hurt that he would see fit to insinuate as much just because he saw her holding Lancelot’s hand.

She turned over and tried to sleep, but it was a long time in coming.

 

 

ii

 

Lancelot felt silly. To have thought Gwen could have meant it when she said she loved him. Come to think of it, he was no longer sure if she had actually used that word or if his own head had supplied it. And to have thought, honestly, that he loved her?

Sure, he found her to be lovely, kind and attractive, in a way that made him nervous around her, and… yes – he supposed he definitely had some fashion of feelings for her.

But then he had been forced to leave Camelot, his lifelong dream of becoming a knight left in tatters, and it had been downhill from there. He fell in with some bad people, stopped writing to Merlin and Gwen out of the shame he felt – he did not want either of them to know what he had become; how low he had stooped, making his living by fighting duels for men like Hengist, being forced to kill men for no jolly good reason than to entertain.

Many a night he had lain in bed, holding their letters to his chest, closing his eyes as though it would make go away the fact that he was abandoning them both. Often on those nights he allowed himself to indulge in remembering other nights, long ago, lying on Merlin’s bed in Camelot, holding each other close so as not to fall off the thin bed in sleep, his hand on Merlin’s cheek, Merlin’s lips on his own. Sometimes he would also picture Gwen beside them, but with no memory to go off he could scarce say what that might really be like.

And then he had told himself to close the door on that chapter of his life; to accept that as much as he cared for both, neither could be a part of it any more. To forget them.

And he had, he thought. Until he saw her that day, sitting at that table beside Hengist, the shock on her face when she recognised him. And he did not kill that day. He spared his opponent, much to Hengist’s chagrin. From there he began to climb up from the bottom of the barrel into which he had fallen, and all of a sudden, he was overwhelmed with feelings for her.

But now, free, as he sat beside her by the campfire, it was Merlin from whom he found he could not tear away his gaze; and she could not tear hers from Arthur.

 

 

iii

 

As he approached him, Merlin didn’t know whether he wanted to kiss Lancelot or slap him, so he opted to restrain himself from both and sat himself down on a rock about a metre away.

“Is it true, that Arthur only came because Morgana begged him?” Lancelot asked. Merlin said nothing, but the silence gave him away.

“What about you, do you have feelings for Gwen?” Merlin asked, not sure what the answer would mean for them and thus if he wanted to hear it.

As though in deference to that, Lancelot merely told him that his feelings do not matter, that he wouldn’t come between Gwen and Arthur.

He couldn’t help but wonder: did Lancelot still have feelings for _him_? Imagine he didn’t? That would make for quite the unhappy chain of people not wishing to come between others; so, when Lancelot implied that he would leave again, Merlin wondered if that was a good thing.

He quickly decided it wasn’t. He’d take Lancelot’s friendship over no Lancelot any day, even if it meant parting at the end of the day, if it meant no more nights like the ones they had shared in Camelot the first time, never again Lancelot in his bed. They could still dine together, spend their days together. He could still have Lancelot’s help collecting herbs for Gaius, they could aid in the physician’s work together, and Lancelot would be around to help when Merlin accompanied Arthur on a quest, since Uther would likely not restore his knighthood. Or perhaps he would, and Lancelot would take rooms on the other side of the castle… and with neither Gwen nor Merlin around, fall in love with one of the other knights.

Merlin shook his head out of those thoughts.

“Where did you go?” He eventually asked, breaking the silence. “Why did you stop writing to us? We have both been so worried.”

Lancelot bowed his head and kicked the ground at his feet. “I was ashamed,” he admitted. “To have lost everything I stood for, to have given up on my dream.”

Merlin stood up and approached slowly.

Lancelot continued. “And it seems, I shall continue to be doomed in that respect.”

“I thought you said Gwen changed you forever?”

“I think we both have given each other much false hope, these past few days.”

“Come back to Camelot with us,” Merlin said. “Maybe you can’t be a knight, but maybe you can still make something of yourself.”

“So that you can keep an eye on me,” Lancelot joked, a self-depreciating laugh. “Keep me on the right track.”

“Not at all,” Merlin said, inching closer still.

“I… am not sure it would be wise for me to return,” Lancelot said, glancing to where Gwen and Arthur slept on opposite sides of the fire.

“Is there no other reason for you to return?” Merlin asked, not wanting to believe Lancelot did not wish to see more of him at _all_ , that perhaps the cessation of his letters hadn’t been entirely on account of his shame.

“I do not know, is there?” Lancelot held his gaze, now, and Merlin saw something he would never have expected – fear in Lancelot’s eyes. “I thought perhaps you would have moved on after we lost touch.”

“I did try,” Merlin admitted. “But it didn’t last.” They were so close now that he could feel Lancelot’s breath on his face – no doubt Lancelot could feel it too. “Come back,” he pleaded. “to me.”

They lingered there together for a moment, foreheads making contact, a brush of their noses, their lips almost.

 

 

iv

 

“Where’s Lancelot?” Gwen asked when she woke, hooking her arms under her legs and smiling. She knew she would probably choose Arthur in the end, but by god if she wasn’t going to put him through the wringer first, for what he said. “Where is he?”

Merlin said nothing as he kicked out the fire. She could feel tears welling up in her chest and eyes. Surely, he had not left them again. She might not love him the way she had believed only yesterday, but he was still a dear friend and she had no desire to see the back of him.

What’s more, she had witnessed them, last night when they thought she slept. She had seen Merlin and Lancelot caught up in an intimate moment, share a kiss, and then Lancelot had said something, and Merlin had nodded and watched him walk away. Surely, he hadn’t left Merlin on account of her tangled relationship with him? If he had, so help her, she would find him and drag him by the ear back to Camelot.

“No,” she said, as though saying it would make his absence less real and she could save her tears.

“He’s coming back, Gwen,” Merlin said then, his face the picture of conflict, and Gwen wondered what had been said between them. “He says he has a hovel nearby, he went to fetch a few belongings, that’s all.”

“We have a long walk ahead of us,” Arthur said.

“Shouldn’t we wait for him?” Gwen asked, still not entirely convinced he wasn’t gone.

“He’ll meet us along the way,” Merlin assured her with a squeeze on her shoulder, and the two of them set off behind Arthur.

The silence was palpable as the three of them picked their way along the forest floor, along what could barely be described as a path. Gwen had tried to thank Arthur for rescuing her, but he seemed thoroughly disinclined to talk at all, and marched on ahead at a pace he knew she wouldn’t keep up with.

The air between Gwen and Merlin was not infinitely better – she needed to talk to him about what had happened, between her and Lancelot, between him and Lancelot; he was one of her closest friends, and whatever Lancelot was to either of them it was her last wish that he come in the way of that. She hadn’t yet _tried_ talking to Merlin because she hadn’t yet figured out the right words.

At any rate, she reasoned, he’d be more receptive than Arthur was being.

He beat her to it.

“Do you love Lancelot?” he asked, straight to the point – leaving the trickier position to her.

“Do you?” she asked.

“I don’t want your answer to be swayed by mine.” Merlin said.

“You do love him, then.” Gwen said, matter-of-fact. “I feel something for him, but it is not love. A friend, perhaps. Though I fear he may love me.”

“Why do you fear it?” Merlin asked.

“I don’t wish to hurt him,” she said, “nor for him to hurt you.”

“It wouldn’t hurt me to know he loves you, only to know he didn’t love me too.”

“He does love you? He told you?”

Merlin nodded. It brought a smile to Gwen’s face, for the first time that day. At least one good thing had come of everything that had happened.

“I’m relieved.” A beat. “Merlin, whatever has happened, whatever is yet to happen; I want you to know that I never want to lose your friendship.”

He grabbed her by the arm and stopped them both in their tracks, pulling her into an embrace. “I’m so glad to hear that,” he said as she hugged him tightly in return.

“Quiet,” came from Arthur up ahead, who had stopped still and had a hand on the hilt of his sword.

They did as he said, and not ten seconds later, there were bandits emerging from the treeline. Arthur was on them in an instant, felling them in quick succession and too busy to notice Merlin’s eyes turning gold to coincide with some unfortunate accidents when their number became too great for one man to fend off alone. If Gwen noticed, she said nothing.

Their attackers dealt with, they went to continue on their way, Arthur grouching at Merlin and Gwen to do a better job of keeping up with him. None of them saw one of the fallen bandits pick himself up off the ground and run towards them with a knife in hand, until he cried out, and they jumped round in shock to see him with a sword in his back.

“Lancelot!” Merlin and Gwen said in unison, grins on both of their faces.

Arthur’s expression darkened.

 

 

v

 

Lancelot did not like to be the cause of Arthur’s bad mood. But he knew he was – no matter how Arthur had denied it as he stormed ahead of the three of them, letting his actions speak louder than his words.

Merlin, Gwen and Lancelot exchanged uneasy glances. Apparently, there was no talking to him.

Lancelot did not like to be the cause of Arthur’s bad mood. But that much was already unavoidable, and he liked even less to think of parting with Arthur on a sour note, and of subsequently becoming the cause of Gwen’s distress, Merlin’s heartbreak.

Gwen’s distress, or Gwen’s heartbreak? They were yet to discuss what had passed between them during their time in Hengist’s fortress. Would it hurt her more for him to leave, or for him to stay? He silently cursed himself for getting into such a tangled mess.

The uncomfortable silence continued as they traversed the wilddeoren-infested caves of Andor, as they washed off the stench of the gaia berries, as they approached the two horses which were to be shared between four people. 

“Arthur, this cannot go on,” Gwen said, finally confronting him. “It isn’t fair”

“On any of us,” Arthur grumbled.

“Then pull yourself together,” Gwen said, hastily adding: “sire.”

“Gwen is right. We have to work together,” Merlin added.

Lancelot said nothing; he had not quite got used to the idea of being so frank with Arthur, such as Gwen and Merlin had. He still revered him in a way. That being said – he did agree with them: Arthur’s behaviour was petulant to say the least.

Arthur looked ready to argue with them, but to his credit he did not. And when they got to the horses he helped Gwen up in front of him without hesitating. Lancelot mounted behind Merlin, put his arms around Merlin’s waist. He rested his head on the back of Merlin’s shoulder, immediately feeling exhaustion crashing down on him as adrenaline evidently washed away. He did not know when he had become this tired. He did know, however, that if he closed his eyes he would fall asleep.

Perhaps such a sight would go some of the way to convincing Arthur that he was not here to sweep Gwen off her feet.

As he watched Gwen and Arthur lean into each other, though, he did feel a sharp sadness go through him.

“Go to sleep if you want,” Merlin said quietly, as though knowing his thoughts. “Just don’t fall off.”

“I might just take you up on that,” Lancelot said with a silent exhale; clasped his hands together in front of Merlin tightly to secure himself, and leaned up to press a quick kiss into Merlin’s neck before returning his head to where it had been resting, and closed his eyes.

Arthur looked on, startled; Gwen’s expression was inscrutable.

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](lionowlonao3)


End file.
